


Day One: Tangled Up

by ViennaTodd (Devils_Little_Angel)



Series: Viennaverse [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 07:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devils_Little_Angel/pseuds/ViennaTodd
Summary: Getting tangled up has never gone well for Jason as far as he's concerned.----4 times getting tied up has gone really bad, and 1 time Jason didn't mind.





	Day One: Tangled Up

**Author's Note:**

> So me and my friend group are doing Fictional Other February, I'll link the prompt list we're using at the end, and I figured it'd be easier to post on AO3 and then link it so here I am!
> 
> I think I tagged all the questionable content that may upset people, if I didn't let me know!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

 Jason has always hated being tied up. For as long as he can remember the lack of mobility has never been pleasant. He needs to be free to move as he likes, run or fight back if necessary. He has never had a _good_ experience with being tangled with something, and as far as he’s concerned nothing good could ever come from it. In fact, he could think of at LEAST four times being tangled up has been absolutely awful for him.

The first time he could remember was probably back when he was still living on the streets. His dead beat dad was gone… _Good Riddance_. And his mother had been spending more and more time drugged off her ass. Lately he’d begun to wonder if she recognized him, if she wondered where he went when he was gone for days, if she even cared.

It was ok though, even if she didn’t, he’d love her enough for the both of them.

Even if that meant he’d have to grit his teeth through the hunger pains. He hadn’t eaten in about 2 days by then, and after another unsuccessful dumpster dive he was ready to dig into their emergency stash… Except when he came home, it was to find his mother had already spent the rest of their money chasing another high while he was gone. The nauseating fear and panic at potentially having to go another three days without food was strong enough to make him sway where he stood. And it was more than enough to make him consider doing something stupid.

Something stupid like encroaching on Jamie-From-Down-The-Way’s territory. Everybody knew the rules. You stay on your block and mind your fucking own and nobody had to get hurt. But Jason’s street hadn’t been bringing up much of anything lately, and he was getting desperate… When he counted out the money he’d made at the end of the night, the relief that he’d be able to feed his mom and him till his next job was so heady he could taste it on his tongue. It _almost_ made it all worth it.

**He should have known better.**

It was all he could think as he found himself hauling _ass_ through every shortcut and alleyway he could think of; Jamie and his goons gaining on him by the second. He could see it in front of him. One last fence to jump and he’d be back on his own turf, and the rules would change. Just one last leap and he was in the clear.

**He should have known better.**

He was hungry, and weak; he wasn’t on his A-game. Maybe if he had been he would’ve made it. But as it was, when he went to climb, he made it about half way before he could feel the ratty tatters on the cuffs of his jeans catch on the chain-link so thoroughly that he couldn’t lift his right leg anymore.

Hands grabbed him by the back of the shirt and threw him to the ground. Feet and fists rained down, beating the reminder in black and blue onto his skin. He was resigned when he felt what might have been his ribs cracking, and when the boys took everything he earned _and then some_ for… heh, get this, “Taxes” he was filled with a bitter sort of resentment, that set heavy on his tongue and he could no longer tell which pains were from bruises, hunger, or rage. And even when he and his gang caught Jamie later and beat him to what were probably inches of his life, all that was toiling through his brain was the same mantra.

**He should have known better.**

* * *

 

The second time he got tangled up wasn’t so grave thankfully. But it still left him with hot feelings of shame writhing around like snakes in his stomach.

It wasn’t that long after he’d been yanked of the streets, and while he’d taken to his new day job “surprisingly” easy (That’s what all the adults said, because nobody expected shit out of the street trash, but Jason knew he was smart), his new night life wasn’t as easy to grasp.

Bruce had been training him over the past couple of months, and god he was strict, and _harsh_. He was trying to prepare Jason, because “it’s different on the streets” but Jason didn’t need to be told that. He lived, breathed and bled the streets of Gotham. Nobody in that house knew its cruelty like he did.

But Bruce still hadn’t given him The Suit yet, and he wanted to be Robin more than anything he had ever wanted. And to get it, he’d put up with the training from hell; He’d put up with just about anything for the chance to be _Robin_ , even if it means putting up with Dick’s “tests”.

He’s not dumb. He knows that Dick doesn’t like him. He also knows that he may be good, but he isn’t nearly good enough, may never be good enough, to beat Dick in a fight. When Nightwing interrupts him while he’s practicing his forms, Jason just wants to sigh. He tries his hardest not to glare at the acrobat as he explains that they’re going to be playing essentially a game of tag, the entire cave is the playing field, and whoever immobilizes the other first wins. Dick tells him, “If you can’t win in here, you’ll never win out there” and Jason doesn’t know what he wants to say in response but it would definitely be scathing. The rules seem pretty simple, and Jason figures that while he almost definitely won’t win, he can at least give Dick hell for being such a jerk all the time.

It’s all over embarrassingly quick.

 In less than 15 minutes, Jason finds himself hanging from the T-Rex’s mouth, his ankles tied together while Dick gives him that look that he can’t read but assumes is a mix of disappointment and pity. Jason isn’t blind. It was obvious that Dick spent most of their “fight” (if you could even call it that) toying with him. This wasn’t training. Dick never gave him advice or pointers as to what he could fix; he just told him “I think we both know what you could’ve done better” or some other patronizing bullshit before he walked away. Today it was just, “Figure out how to get yourself down”.

Five minutes, a lot of nausea, and one really bad landing later, Jason found himself nursing a bruised shoulder and what he was pretty fucking sure was a fractured forearm. As he limped upstairs, he was hit with how much he was starting to hate Dick.

He didn’t really get what Dick’s damage was, but, and he hoped that Bruce would never need to replace him, but if he did, he wouldn’t be such a, well, a dick about it.

* * *

The third is the time he doesn’t like to think about, so of course it’s the one that never leaves his mind. The memory that’s practically carved into the backs of his eyelids now. The one that haunts his dreams and that caused his insomnia. The time that’s accompanied by crowbars, followed by ticking and filled with the face of another woman that he loved that didn’t love him _enough_.

Yeah, nothing good has ever come of him being tied up.

* * *

 

The fourth time isn’t much better if he’s honest.

He wakes up in a panic, although saying it that way makes him question the definition of what it really means to be awake, since he’d been living but not present for months apparently. Regardless, he’s panicking, and he can’t breathe and everywhere he looks and everything he sees is **green** and he’s choking on it.

The Green is surrounding him and grabbing at him, pulling him into the depths and he wants to get away, wants to fight but he can’t because he’s tangled up in all these bandages. The bandages are wet and heavy with the green and he can’t move. They’re holding his arms and legs down and so he’s sinking.

He’s sinking and the Green is clawing its way inside, but it can’t fit and it feels like he’s bursting, and he thinks _This. This is the worst I’ve ever felt._ But he’s wrong because now it’s making room for itself scrapping away everything that used to be Him, until there’s nothing left, and when he has nothing left to give it keeps taking, until he’s raw and shaking and **He is Green**.

Suddenly his eyes are open and he can breathe again but he isn’t getting any air anyway so what does it matter really. The Green is inside him and he wants to throw up, wants to get it out and before he even realizes what he’s doing he’s scratching at his own skin. There’s probably blood under his nails but he doesn’t care because it isn’t Green and that’s _Good,_ but before he can do anymore damage to himself, there are hands on his, slowly prying them off his arms, and this should make him want to panic but it doesn’t because these hands are gentle, and he can trust them.

One of the hands reaches up and turns his chin and now he’s looking at a face. He can’t recognize it but he feels like he should. It’s a pretty face in an understated way, a bit tired looking, with bags under the eyes but if he thinks about it he wouldn’t mind looking at this face for the rest of forever probably. At this rate though, forever won’t be that long since he still can’t breathe and the face is telling him something but he can’t hear over the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears and his heavy breathing.

Slowly, he still feels detached from his body in a way that he can’t really explain, he’s being laid back. The face is still talking to him, and he wonders if the voice is as pretty as it is. He wants to know so he tries desperately to listen.

It’s soft and quietly melodic, but not in an overtly musical way. He can’t make out any of the words it’s saying but it’s nice to listen to. Without even realizing, he’s started to match his breathing to the cadence of that voice, and in a couple minutes he’s calm again. Although now he feels disjointed, like there’s a few seconds of lag between what he wants to do and when his body responds.

He can hear what the voice is saying now, lots of “ _You’re alright. You aren’t alone. It’s just a dream. You aren’t there anymore”_. The voice reminds him who and where he is. His name is Jason, her name is Vienna, it’s February and they’re lying in bed. What he thought were bandages, was actually a blanket that’s been kicked to the floor.

He looks further around the room, noting the sun just barely starting to peak over the horizon and giving a sufficient amount of light that he is able to calm down entirely. Jason looks over at Vienna, giving her a small, grateful smile, but still not ready to talk yet.

Vienna gives him a reassuring smile in return, before asking if it’s alright and does he need a hug. He wants to tell her yes, and thank you, but his tongue feels too large for his mouth and he fears that if he tries to speak he may accidentally choke on it, so instead he jerks his head once.

After that, she rolls closer to him, sliding one arm under his shoulders and lifting the other to stroke through his hair. He immediately wraps his arms around her, and if he holds on a bit too tight… she doesn’t say anything. He can’t bring himself to close his eyes yet, but he can press a kiss into her shoulder, so that’s what he does. She hums quietly, a song they used to listen too when they were dumb teens who thought they were like Lady & The Tramp, a Lucy and Ricky for the new age, two halves of a same spirit, always on the same wavelength, so thoroughly intertwined with each other they couldn’t even think about being apart.

Sometimes, he wishes they could go back to then. Never have to grow up. She interlocks their legs together and he feels a bit of that age old anxiety start to rise up, _He won’t be able to move, to run, to fight—_ but then she presses a kiss to his forehead, he takes a deep breath and figures, as long as he’s tangled up in Vienna… Well he won’t be going anywhere anyway, so he really doesn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the prompt list here: https://tittiesontrees.tumblr.com/post/170198979007/fo-february-2018-one-writing-drawing-prompt-a
> 
> Don't forget to Kudos, Comment, and Subscribe! lol


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